


I'm reaching out with every note I sing

by Asphodel_Meadow



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s04e13 No Better To Be Safe Than Sorry, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mythology References, Non-Linear Narrative, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-01 09:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18797296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asphodel_Meadow/pseuds/Asphodel_Meadow
Summary: In which Eliot is a great singer and Hades is a good guy, but that doesn't make everything easy.





	1. Eurydice, it's over too soon

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm still in denial.
> 
> The title of the fic comes from the lyrics of Wish That You Were Here by Florence and the Machine. And the titles of this chapter, and the next one, comes from It's Never Over (Oh, Orpheus) by Arcade Fire.
> 
> Also, I want to thank my friend Liz who listened to my complains of the season finale and helped with the edition.

Eliot has to blink several times to adjust his sight to the variation of light. Just a second ago, he was standing in the middle of a clearing in Fillory; and now, he’s inside in what appears to be an office, if the bookshelves are anything to go by.

“Where am I?” He asks, still confused by the drastic action. It’s been a while since he has travelled to others worlds.

“Why don’t you tell me?” A voice at his back says.

Eliot spins around to face the stranger. Seated behind a desk, there is a man in a black suit. He raises his arm and points to the empty chair on the other side of the desk. Eliot accepts the invitation and takes a seat.

The man doesn’t speak; he’s waiting for the answer to his question. Eliot doesn’t recognize the place or the man. However, he can feel the air thick with expectation; this is a test. Eliot recounts his previous action, looking for a clue. He had just finished singing when everything around him changed. That must be.

“I’m in the underworld”, he affirms. “And you are Hades”. There is no other explanation, Eliot convinces himself and shuts the voice that tells him, he’s being delusional.  

“You are correct”, Hades confirms his assumption.

“I wasn’t expecting this”, Eliot confesses. Suddenly, he understands the importance of this conversation. He doesn’t feel prepared for the task.

“Weren’t you?” Hades enquiries. He appears to find the discussion entertaining. “Then, why sing and waste your time?”

“It’s not a waste of time”, Eliot responds with more force than necessary.  He can’t help himself, by now it’s almost a reflex. So many people had questioned his actions. They claimed it was useless. And see where he is now, in the underworld talking with Hades. “Of course I wanted to come here. It’s just, I didn’t expect it to be so…”

“Soon?” Hades finishes Eliot’s sentence. “It’s been forty days since you began this. I found the number fitting for your situation”.

Hades doesn’t need to explain anything. Forty timelines, forty resets.

“You have a bizarre sense of humor”, Eliot comments.

“You seemed to like it, the last time we talked”.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly me that time”.

“It was”.

“I’m sure you have seen me before, like 39 times before”.  Eliot doesn’t know why he’s so focused on winning this argument. He just feels the impulse to debate this. “Though, I’m not sure exactly in how many of those loops I died”.

“I’m not talking about the others. You were way older than you are now, but it was definitely you. It doesn’t matter since you don’t remember”. Hades says with an air of finality.

 _The mosaic_ , Eliot thinks. He spent a whole life with Quentin there: fifty years together. That’s the only time he remembers dying. He saw a last glimpse of Quentin’s figure and then darkness. Everything about that time confuses Eliot. Sometimes, it doesn’t seem right to think of those years as another timeline. Those memories felt as real as all of his past experiences.

Hades seems to catch on Eliot’s confusion, because, he says: “Sometimes, destiny is not bullshit. Think of this, that quest was only solved in your timeline and that’s what made all the loops possible. However, you didn’t come to find out how Time Magic works, did you?”

Eliot shakes his head. As much as he would like to understand that, he has a more important matter to talk.

“I came for Quentin”.

 

* * *

 

 

Eliot found Julia and Alice in the living room of the Cottage.

It felt weird to be back in this place after all the time he had spent in it inside his mind. It should feel familiar, but everything was off. This only served to remind Eliot how much time has passed since he considered this place something akin to a home. He tried to ignore the sensation of wrongness at seeing the decorations. However, that was good, that meant he wasn’t trapped in his mind anymore. Eliot focused on the two persons in the room.

“Just the people I wanted to see”, he said as greeting. Once he had their attention, he made the question that had been burning his tongue: “So what’s our plan?” Eliot was surprised by the two mirror expressions of confusion. It should be obvious. “We cried and we sung and it was touching. But, now it’s the moment in which we get our shit together and we figure out how to bring him back”.

“That’s not possible”, Julia was the one who broke the silence.

 _If you still were a goddess it would be different_. He wanted to say, but there was no need to open old wounds. It wasn’t even her fault. Instead, he tried to think of other occasion in which they managed to accomplish what everyone thought to be impossible.

“He brought Alice back”, he pointed out.

“That was different, Eliot, and you know it”. Alice intervened, she sounded tired. Eliot imagined she had been having this conversation with herself.  He was aware of the difference between the two situations. He was just looking for a starting point.

“This is more similar to when Penny died. And we couldn’t bring him back”. Julia reasoned.

“There wasn’t magic back then”, Alice murmured. Eliot could see how difficult this was for Alice. Her logic side denied the possibility, but she still wanted to find a loophole.

“There must be a way”, Eliot insisted. He could hear the desperation in his own voice. Eliot was not sure who he was trying to convince: them or himself.

“Stop it, Eliot”, Julia raised her voice. “Magic can’t fix everything”. There was something she wasn’t saying, that she did not wish to share.

Eliot directed his gaze towards Alice, but he didn’t find any support there. As they were at the moment, this was a pointless discussion. There was no need to drag the outcome. Again, he wanted to lash out at them. _Stay idly by; I’ll do whatever it takes_. But he could not say those words, because he saw his own pain reflected in both of their faces.

Shock, denial, guilt, anger. He will wait until they get to the bargaining stage.

“If that’s your position, then I guess we have nothing more to talk”. He was bluffing, but they didn’t call him out. Eliot headed to the second floor. He stopped at the bottom of the stairwell and informed them: “Margo and I will be leaving in the morning”. Before they could protest, he added: “To Fillory, she wants to regain her throne”.

 _The one she lost for my fault._ He didn’t add. Another thing for that he was responsible. Another thing he needed to fix. One step at the time. He would take care of this while he waits for Alice and Julia to catch up.

Bargaining. This is their specialty.

 

* * *

 

“You wish to do what Orpheus couldn’t”, Hades says. Eliot was hoping they could skip the part in which they talked about other people mistakes. He has enough thinking about his.

“I’m not leaving this place without Quentin”.

“That’s not your call”. Hades’ words make Eliot uneasy. If Hades isn’t planning of making a deal, then why did he give Eliot the book? Why did he bring Eliot to the Underworld? Hades seems to read his mind. “I will explain the rules to you”.

Eliot doesn’t need any explaining. He knows how the story goes.  Orpheus’ music was so touching that Hades let him take Eurydice with him to return to Earth. There was only one condition: he mustn’t look back until they were outside of the Underworld.

“I can’t look back until we’re out. I know that”. Eliot states.   _If I look back I lose him, I lose Q forever_.

“Well not exactly”.

Eliot head jerks up. This isn’t going how he expected. But then, he is dealing with a god. He should have anticipated all kind of troubles. Eliot asks warily: “What do you mean?”

“Firstly, I’m not going to appear Quentin out of thin air. You need to find him. And second, the ‘don’t look back’ rule; that was the condition I gave to Orpheus, the boy was very impatient. However, for you it will be different one. Actually, there are two conditions”.

“Orpheus gets one and I get two. Why I’m not surprised by my shitty luck?” Eliot can’t help complain. 

“Better make that three”.

“Are you serious?”

“Well, I can always send you back and make you start again”, Hades threatens him. Eliot needs to keep his mouth shut. He was doing so well.  

“Fine, you’re right”. Eliot inhales deeply. “I’m not Orpheus. I’ll follow your three conditions. Should we write them down?”

Eliot looks at the desk. He is under the impression there’s going to be a long contract there; ready to be signed by him. But everything is the same as it was when the conversation started.

“It’s not necessary, your word is enough”, Hades assures him. “And, Eliot, it’s a good thing you’re not Orpheus. Actually, I liked your song better”.

It must say something about Eliot’s life that being complimented by Hades for his musical taste doesn't face him. However, he feels the need to show his gratitude. After all, it was his singing what brought him to this moment. The last thing he wants to do is to offend the god. So, Eliot shrugs and mutters: “Thanks, I guess”.

 

* * *

 

Eliot scrolled through the list that Margo gave him.

After the tension in the castle calmed down, she had travelled back to Earth and brought the musical record player with her. She had thrown the artifact at Eliot’s head and exclaimed: “There you go, don’t say I didn’t help you”.  

It shouldn’t be a surprise that Margo supported his quest. Well, maybe supported was a strong word; it was more like she allowed it. Margo and Eliot were alike in many aspects. Just like he had waited for Julia and Alice to catch up with him on the bargaining stage; now, Margo was waiting for Eliot to find his way to the final phase: acceptance.

If the situation were different, Margo would already have tried to knock some sense in Eliot’s head. _Life goes on, asshole. Live it for both of you, El._ That sounded like Margo, the perfect combination between harsh words and tenderness. She hadn’t done that yet for two reasons.

One, Eliot was (barely) holding his shit together. He had been a mess when the words _"Q is dead’_ fell from Margo’s lips. Eliot had cried. Oh, how he had. He shed bitter tears for everything that was lost, their chance at happiness, but mostly for Quentin. Sweet, brave Quentin who deserved the world.

Eliot went from sadness to anger to guilt. Maybe if he hadn’t shot to the monster, maybe if he hadn’t been trapped in his mind; none of that mattered anymore. It was a blessing that the ambient magic were so low, if not, Eliot would have been a walking tornado. He could feel the frenzied humming of his telekinesis under his skin, reacting to the slight variation on his emotions. But then, he willed himself to stop, because if he continued down on that path he would be useless.

The second reason why Margo hadn’t pulled an intervention was pretty obvious. He wasn’t drinking himself to death. After the bargaining stage comes depression; before accepting the reality, people tend to fall into a self-destructive phase. Right now, it was this quest what was preventing him from spiraling down. Eliot himself was amazed that he hadn’t fallen into any of his usual unhealthy coping mechanisms by this time. However, he knew he had found new ones, less destructive but equally painful.

Margo would hate to see him falling apart. She would be there to pick up the pieces; his loyal Bambi. Nevertheless, if she could delay that moment, she would take the opportunity. And that’s what she was doing. She was letting him have this last beacon of hope. Besides, the book had come with a note signed by Hades.  It wasn’t the greatest warranty, but at least it was something. _It had to mean something_.

Therefore, the playlist. Eliot listened to the songs, trying to find one that echoed his feelings. He had realized that the majority of the songs focused more on the good memories and less in the pain of the loss. Margo never let anything to chance. She selected those songs to help him in his grief process.

However, Eliot wasn’t listening to find solace. He needed a song to start his task and bring Quentin back. Eliot bet Orpheus wasn’t as indecisive as him. He was about to put the device down, when one title caught his attention.

Wish That You Were Here, it read. How fitting.  Eliot pushed the play button and, before he could second guess himself, he selected ‘repeat song’.  He let the gentle melody wash over him. There was a verse that stood out. _I must stop time traveling; you’re always on my mind._ He really should, but he couldn’t. The memories of the mosaic were the ones that keep him afloat. 

By the third time the song repeated, Eliot found himself singing along the chorus. His rich voice filled the room. “ _And now I'm reaching out with every note I sing. And I hope it gets to you on some pacific wind; wraps itself around you and whispers in your ear. Tells you that I miss you and I wish that you were here”._

Yes, Eliot had found the right song.

 

* * *

 

“Listen, this is how it works”, Hades explains. “You have to find him and convince him to follow you; Quentin has to walk out of here on his own volition. Do you understand?”

“Yes”.

“Perfect, then the first rule would be easy to follow. No touching allowed until you’re out”.

“Fine”, Eliot mutters. He hopes he sounds calm, but he is sure his facial expression betrays his emotions. How Hades expected that Eliot adhere to that rule? Eliot can’t imagine see Q and not tackle him in the spot. And yet, he would have to do that if he wants to have him back.

“Great. Second rule: no talking allowed, until-”

“We are out, I get it”, Eliot interrupts Hades.  “How do you expect me to convince him, though?”

“Aren’t you a magician?”

“Can I do it down here?”

If the situation were different, Eliot would find amusing how his conversation with Hades seems to consist of questions. On how, none of them give a straight answer and how both want to have the upper hand.

“This isn’t the mirror world, Eliot. You should be grateful I’m letting you do your magic. I did let Orpheus have his lyre; that was his magic”. Hades pauses for a moment. “Anyway, last rule: You can’t confess your love until the two of you are out of the Underworld”.

Eliot feels like someone punched him and knocked all the air out of his lungs. _This is too much._ He doesn’t understand the reason why Hades is putting these conditions. Okay, he kind of gets the first one. And yeah, the second could make the quest interesting. Because, of-fucking-course gods liked the thrill. But, the third one, that’s downright cruel.

“Why?”

“I already told you, Eliot. You aren’t Orpheus. The condition I put him was to prove his will. The ones I just established have the same purpose. Besides, you don’t expect Quentin to follow you just because you say you’re in love with him, do you?”

“No. Of course not, this is not about me. He deserves to live”.

“He does”, Hades concedes. “However, nor life or death are fair”.

 

* * *

 

“El, maybe you should stop this”.

Eliot and Margo were dining in their private chambers.  He was about to retire, when Margo spoke. He didn’t need to ask what she meant by _this_.

“Why, Bambi? Are you going to tell me it’s useless?” There was no recrimination in his tone, he only sounded tired.  Actually, he was surprised by his disposition to speak about the matter.

He still remembered how hard he ran from this type of talk. _Can we be honest for five seconds, please?_  The echo of an old exchange rang in Eliot’s ears. _Honestly… I’d rather not._  So much had happened since that night.

Margo didn’t answer his question. Instead she said: “I don’t want you to destroy yourself over this”.

Oh, so that was the reason of her concern. It made sense. Since he had started with the research he had been neglecting his health.

“No need to worry, I’m still in the bargaining stage”. Eliot stood up, he kissed the top of Margo’s head and left the room.

The thing was Eliot didn’t know if he was ever going to get out of that stage. He understood where she was coming from. She’s wondering _what if this doesn’t work?_ Eliot could not let himself consider that outcome; could not even entertain that line of thinking.

However, there were other, darker, doubts that creep in Eliot’s mind.

_What if Quentin didn’t want to come back?_

Eliot had heard enough from their friends to get an idea of Q’s mental state.  Nothing concrete because they hadn’t been _that_ cooperative. It was Julia and Alice the ones who offered the final piece. They didn’t exactly _offer_ the information to him. He happened to be in the correct spot at the correct time. So, yeah, Eliot had eavesdrop their conversation, sue him. Honestly, he wished he hadn’t.

“He stopped running”, Alice had confessed.

And the pieces fell into place and they made sense and they broke Eliot’s heart.

Anger rose in Eliot’s chest when he comprehended this was the reason Alice and Julia haven’t jumped right away into ‘bring Q back’ boat. They thought this had been Quentin’s choice. “That's bullshit”, he wanted to yell, but he was frozen in his spot.

She said Quentin stopped running. She thought Quentin chose death. Eliot refused to accept that discerning. He knew death could be alluring; been there, done that.

Though, was there really a choice to be made when nobody give you alternatives?

Eliot hadn’t been when Quentin needed help. And, yes, he was trapped in his mind by a monster, as Margo pointed out when Eliot beat himself upon this. But Eliot would be damned if he didn’t try to do something now.

He was going to give Quentin a choice.

 

* * *

 

A younger Eliot would have agreed to all the conditions and have dived forward the action.  A younger him would have been so screwed. Fortunately, now, Eliot knows better. If he wants to win this he needs the terms of their deal to be as clear as possible.  

“So about these rules, I would like to know which their limits are”. Eliot says casually.

“Ask”, Hades allows.

This is Eliot’s opportunity to get some leverage. He understood why the first ruled existed. Hades was giving Quentin a choice. Eliot wasn’t interesting on using touching in that way. He planned to use his words, which was a problem taking into account the second rule. Compartmentalize: one thing at the time.

“Do hugs and kisses fall under touching?” Eliot makes his first inquiry. He didn’t believe Hades was going to give him this, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“They do”, Hades answers.

“I know I can’t talk. But what about yelling?" Maybe he can use semantics to get the upper hand. "Can I do mimic? Can I draw?” He lists different actions, he knows that each alternative sounds more absurd than the previous one. 

“No, yes and yes”, Hades seems amused by his suggestions. “Most people will simply write”.

“Thanks for the tip”, at least he has that. There must be other option that he’s overlooking. It doesn’t take him long to find it. “Can I sing?”

“You can”, Hades announces smiling. He likes the idea, Eliot can tell. Before he can claim a victory, Hades establishes more conditions: “It has to be a real song. It must have been recorded on Earth. And you can’t alter the lyrics, but you don’t need to sing the whole thing”.  

Who would have thought that Hades had such  strong opinions on music? Eliot squashes the urge to argue with Hades. It didn’t end very well the last time. By now, he should be used to these games. Eliot’s life is never simple. He sends a thank you to Margo for her playlist. At least, Hades didn’t confine into a single genre or artist.

“About the third rule, what exactly do you consider a love confession?” At his question, Hades raises an eyebrow. “For example if I tell him: ‘peaches and plums’. Does that count?”

“It does; a classical declaration if you ask me. Another totally valid one is ‘who gets a proof of concept’”. Hades’ tone is playful. Yeah, there’s no doubt the god has read their books. Eliot feels oddly flattered. After a brief pause, Hades adds: “You can’t tell him you’re in love with him”.

“Good to know. I guess I can’t tell him about the rule”.

“That defeats its purpose”. Hades says. “You can tell him about the other rules, you aren’t exactly breaking them”.

“And if I break a rule, what happens?”

“The rules changed, but the punishment is the same. Like I did with Orpheus, I will send you back where you came from. You would only be able to enter when you belong to the dead”.

Eliot takes a deep breath. He can’t fuck this up.

“You keep saying that I can’t do stuff until I get out. How do exactly we get out? How do I find him?”

“Take this”, Hades hands him a golden card, on black letters it reads the word ‘visitor’. “Quentin has a similar card. It would help you to find him. When you’ve convinced him to follow you. Both of you need to rip it off. It will take you to Fillory”.

“Just like that?” Eliot asks, because it feels extremely easy.

“Break the rules and you lose him”, Hades remembers Eliot what it’s at skate.

“Like I would forget that”.

Hades snaps his fingers and then the office disappears. Both of them are now in what looks like some sort of parking lot.

“The card also works if only _you_ want to leave”. Hades accents the word ‘you’. He’s giving Eliot a way to get out if he wishes to give up on the quest. “Walk through that archway; it will lead you to him. Don’t forget to be brave when you get out”.

 

* * *

 

Going back to Fillory became the perfect distraction for Eliot to escape from his guilt. However, their trip also put things into perspective. For the first time since Eliot woke up, he had realized that their little team had split up.

Kady was the first to go. The morning after the bonfire, she disappeared from the Cottage. She returned to the Penthouse, or that’s what Alice told them.

Margo and Eliot were the second to announce their departure. Yet, Alice beaten them to actually leave when a librarian came looking for her. Soon the only inhabitants of the Cottage were Julia and Penny. But, for Eliot it was as if the place were empty; giving that neither of them had actually lived there.

For the first time in a long time there was no quest. No adventure that obliged them to work together. The future of magic no longer rested on their shoulders. If the circumstances were different, Eliot would be glad they were finally able to breath. Maybe, even to go back at how things used to be. But, he knew that was wishful thinking, that was impossible. After all, the five magicians who left the Cottage trying to slay the Beast never really came back. Their bodies did, but not them.

Eliot couldn’t enjoy the little breeze of normalcy. This couldn’t be how everything ended. They all should be together preparing for one last mission, the most important of all. Except they were not, and that was driving Eliot crazy.

And because their life was nothing if not full of surprises, when Eliot and Margo arrived at Fillory they discovered it was being ruled by the Dark King. This presented a minor detour from Eliot’s original plan. However, it needed to be done. This time, they only have each other to solve the problem. It was just Eliot and Margo, like in the pre-Beast time.

Take Fillory back resulted to be surprisingly easy. Three hundred years didn’t stand a chance against the royal blood that runs through Eliot’s veins. That combined with fact that the fillorians were ready to overthrown the Dark King, gave Margo and Eliot the victory.

They regained their titles: High King and High Queen. They were named ‘The Protectors’. Even though, this time Eliot felt he had gained the right to wear the crown; he was ready to abdicate in Margo’s name. She didn’t let him. Instead, they established a diarchy and decided to rule side by side; on equal conditions.

By the time, Eliot and Margo were on the throne again, Alice and Julia had figured their shit out and had came around to _finally_ join operation ‘bring Q back’.

Even from the Underworld, Quentin was still holding them together.

 

* * *

 

“Eliot!” The unmistakable voice of Quentin Coldwater calls him out.

“Quentin!” He yells back. He can’t help it. It’s a knee jerk reaction.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he realizes his misstep. He has just ruined his only chance to save Q.  Eliot expects to see Quentin disappear, just like the myths said Eurydice did. But nothing happens. Instead, Quentin runs until he’s by Eliot’s side and pulls him into a quick hug.

“Are you alright?” Quentin asks. “Of course you’re not, if you’re here that means you are…”

The taller man is too overwhelmed with the interaction to understand what is happening. Just now, he broke two of the rules Hades put him, and yet it doesn’t seems to have any consequences. Maybe, he has to break the three for it to count? No, there must be something else.  

“Q, I’m not dead”, he reassures the other. He decides to speak since he had already done it and nothing bad happened.

Relief passes through Quentin’s face and then confusion. Eliot takes a moment to examine Quentin; his hair is shorter than he remembers to be. It makes Eliot think of their brief time at Brakebills. He would have time to admire Quentin when they get the hell out of here. However, before Eliot can explain himself, Quentin voices his own doubts.

“I don’t understand”, he shakes his head, not believing what Eliot said. “What happened? Did you defeat the Beast?”

The question leaves Eliot speechless. He only manages to mutter an “Uh?”

“Eliot, tell me, did you use the Leo Blade?” Quentin insists, he has his hands on Eliot’s shoulders and is a minute from shaking him to get some answers.

This is not Quentin.  

This is not _his_ Q.

He understands Hades’ words now. _You have to find him_. It seems this quest got more difficult. To be precise, 39 times more complicate.

“Eliot, come on, did it work?” This time Quentin does shake him. His voice is filled with desperation.

He doesn’t need to guess which timeline this Q belongs to know the answer to that question.

“It didn’t”, he says.

Quentin deflates after hearing the words. He lets his hands encircle Eliot’s midsection and rests his head on Eliot’s shoulder. The defeat is evident in his posture. Eliot acts on autopilot; he slips his arms around Quentin’s small frame while the other clings to him. The action is too familiar.

“I’m sorry”, Eliot feels the need to comfort Quentin, any version of him.

“I really thought this time we could win”, Quentin’s confession makes Eliot go still. So, he does know about the loops. Eliot tries to relax the tension, but Quentin has already picked up on it. “You’re not Eliot, are you?”

Quentin’s tone breaks Eliot. Idly, he wonders how many time his Q thought the same looking at the monster.

“I’m not”, he confirms but neither of them take a step back. “If it helps, we do manage to kill the Beast”. _At our forty intent_. He doesn’t say that, for all he knows this could be one of the first timelines.

“It helps a bit”, Quentin says as he detangles himself from Eliot. “Then, how did you end down here?” His curiosity is evident.

Eliot doesn’t get to answer that, because another voice is calling out for Quentin, a voice that’s almost identical to Eliot’s. Quentin’s eyes go wide and he looks frantically to where the sound is coming from.

“I- I need to go”, he tries to explain. “I hope you find me, the other me, I mean, your Quentin”.

“How…?” Eliot inquires unsure of how Quentin arrived to that conclusion.

“Thank you, El”, Quentin says before running in the direction of the voice.

Eliot watches Quentin leave. Even knowing that’s not his Quentin, there’s an ache in his chest. He closes his eyes and tries to analyze what just happened.

It appears in here, wherever it is, there are other versions of Quentin: 39 to be exact. Eliot can talk and touch these others versions. Probably, it means he could also confess his feelings. It's evident that the conditions Hades established only apply to Quentin40. It’s good to know, at least he can distingue them by that. Except he can’t because he won’t risk screwing his only opportunity.  

 

* * *

 

It had been three weeks since Julia and Alice left Whitespire. They decided it was best if each of them searched on their own. They could cover a wide range like this; Eliot and Margo in Fillory, Julia at Brakebills and Alice in the Library. This way, they expected to find answers sooner.

They have tried to leave Penny out of their plan. Taking into account how things in his timeline had gone down, they didn’t think he would take the news very well.  Eventually, he found out. Eliot was surprised Julia managed to keep the secret this long. When Penny appeared in the throne room, Eliot was glad the council meeting was over and they didn’t get to witness their little confrontation.

“You shouldn’t do it”, Penny said skipping the greeting.

“Hello, 23, it’s good to see you”, Eliot responded, completely ignoring Penny’s words.

“You heard me”. Penny had blocked the entrance. It was obvious he’s not going to leave Eliot alone until they had discussed this. Although, Eliot didn’t see the point, he already knew Penny’s arguments.

“Why?” Eliot humored him.

“In my timeline, Quentin died”, Penny begun to explain, but he was interrupted by the other man.

“Yes, everybody knows about the loops. He has died 39 times”.

“It’s 40, Eliot”.

The words provoked a raw ache in Eliot’s chest. If Penny wasn’t going to the point, Eliot will do it. Maybe then, they could end this useless conversation.

“You’re right”, Eliot responded calmly. “In your timeline he died twice”.

“So you know”.

“Of course we know”, Eliot resisted the urge to add (in his most condescending voice) _Why do you think we didn’t tell you anything?_ Instead, he commented: “Alice brought him back”.

“She did and doomed us all until Julia appeared”. For the first time since the conversation started, Penny sounded somber.

“This is not the same”.

“Isn’t it?” Penny countered him; the accusation was clear in his tone. “You’re trying to bring someone who doesn’t belong to this realm. It’s not going to end well, Eliot. For once in your life, think before rushing”. Eliot didn’t respond and Penny took his silence as an invitation to continue. “Listen, the Quentin she brought back was not really him, he didn’t have a shade. He wasn’t Quentin anymore. Have you considered that maybe you won’t get the result you’re looking for?”

“Thank you for your input”, he responded facetiously. “I’ll make sure to bring his shade”.

“You’re all the same”, Penny said as he shook his head in disbelief. “You can’t accept when it’s fucking over”.

Eliot levels Penny with an icy glare.

“Oh, sorry if I don’t take advice from the guy who jumped to another timeline to, practically, stalk other version of his dead girlfriend”. Eliot took advantage of Penny’s stunned look to keep talking. “Now, if you don’t mind I have work to do”.  

Eliot walked to his desk and started going through the papers. The dismissal was crystal clear. When he looked up Penny was gone. Eliot sighed and took down his ward for a moment. He was so focused on keep them up during the whole exchange with Penny. It felt good to relax a bit. At least, judging by Penny’s diatribe, Eliot wasn’t the only who had to deal with this.

After a few minutes, Eliot reached for the first parchment on the pile at his left. He wasn’t lying when he said he had job. Margo would kill him, if he didn’t finish reading those treaties. By the time Eliot had completed his task the sun was setting. He rose from his seat when a book caught his sight.

It was just an ordinary book. But the fact that a second ago the desk was empty made Eliot tense. He felt dread settled in the bottom of his stomach. _Now, what?_ He’s not in the mood to face another problem. Eliot examined the book. The cover was black and it didn’t have anything written. Not a clue of its content. A note poked out from the pages. Against his better judgement, Eliot took and unfolded it.

 _Instead of waiting for you and your friends to mess with my jurisdiction, I’m giving you this._ _  
_ _Hades._

Eliot reread the note and when things made click, he hurried to open the book. On the first page on golden letters there’s a name: Orpheus. He flipped the pages until he reached the last one. Eliot took a moment before looking; this could be the solution. He opened his eyes and read out loud:

“And so it ended the story of Orpheus, son of Apollo and Calliope”.

He laughed for the first time in what a felt a century. He laughed and the sound didn’t come out raspy and maniac like before, but airily and relieved. Eliot cradled the book in his arms, like the treasure it was. He ordered a servant to bring his dinner to his room. It was going to be a long night.

 

* * *

 

Eliot’s has been walking for a bit now. He had encountered with different versions of Q, but he still hadn’t found the correct one.  Eliot is trying to maintain his distance in order to follow the rules. However, that hasn’t worked quite right.

By now, Eliot has been hugged, punched and kissed multiple times. In fact, he has been lucky none of them were his Q, otherwise everything would be ruined. If he was honest, Eliot was very surprised about the kisses. (The punches also had been unexpected, but they made more sense). It was a bit overwhelming to realize that in other timelines Quentin had loved him way before everything had gone to shit. It makes Eliot wonder if his Q had felt something for him back when they were at Brakebills.

Actually, what had startled Eliot the most was when Quentin didn’t recognized him at all. He wonders what Jane had changed. He goes through some of the possibilities: maybe Quentin didn’t get an invitation to the exam; or he did, but he didn’t pass it; or he passed but was expelled. Anyway, it was perplexing for Eliot to find no sign of remembrance in Quentin’s eyes. And yet, he had the same gentle gaze. Eliot supposed some traits couldn’t be changed. After all, that’s who Quentin is at his core: brave, sincere, a believer of magic.

Eliot hears footsteps behind him and turns around to find (another) Quentin. Is this him? Eliot stays on his spot, waiting for the other to make the first move. This is the moment when the hug or the punch comes. But, Quentin keeps his distance. It gives Eliot time to look at his friend. The first clue that something is wrong are his clothes; he’s wearing a three piece suit. The second is his eyes; there is no light there. The third and definitive are his words:

“I was sure you will become a ghost”, Quentin says callously.

“Yeah?” Eliot answers, because, apparently, he doesn’t have any sense of self-preservation. Right in front of him is the Quentin who lost his shade.

“Your death was pretty traumatic”. It’s the only explanation Quentin gives. It’s obvious he was there when it happened, but he doesn’t seem distressed by the reminiscence of the event. Quentin speaks again: “Not like I care”. He bumps Eliot’s shoulders and continues walking without looking back.

 _Perhaps, 23 had a point_ . Eliot thinks. _That was definitely not Q_.

In some way, being here with different versions of Quentin has an eerily similarity to being in his happy place with all those memories of him. There must be a way to find Q in this place. Yelling is not an option, then what? How can Eliot reach out without breaking any of the rules?

Eliot sighs defeated. He takes out the golden card that Hades gave him and twirls it in his hands. Could it be that the gods were still pissed off? Had Hades really wanted him to succeed or was this just an elaborate plan to screw him over? 

Well, if that was their intention, they had chosen the wrong person.  Eliot is not going to leave without Quentin. It is preposterous to presume otherwise. Eliot tucks the card and continues walking. he will find a way to make this work.

Eliot hums a tune and is surprised when the music starts to play. Is like someone has turned the speakers on. Who would have thought Hades would take this so seriously? Eliot can appreciate his fucking compromise. Maybe that’s the key. It isn’t such a mad guess. Singing got him into the Underworld, singing could lead him to Q. It’s worth a try.

On his mind, Eliot goes through some of titles until he finds one song that doesn’t break the rules, but that still has a meaning. Supersymmetry. The link between the material and the ethereal. The connection between what stays and what’s gone. It seems, like Hades said, fitting.

“ _I know you’re living in my mind, but it’s not the same as being alive"._

As he sings, he can feel a small pull. He remembers the card and Hades’ words. Perhaps, not all gods are assholes.

 

* * *

 

After singing, Eliot stayed a bit more in the gardens. It had been 30 days since he started with this and nothing had happened. To be fair, Eliot didn’t even know what he was expecting, maybe for the ground to open and swallow him? It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing. Wouldn’t even make it to the top five. He smiled at the absurdity of it.

Outside the gardens, Eliot met Alice.

“Margo send me to find you”, she said when she saw him.

“You mean to fetch me”, he corrected her. Alice offered him an apologetic smile. They walked in silence, until Alice spoke again.

“This isn’t working”.

Eliot knew this conversation was bound to occur, but that didn’t mean he wanted to have it. The thing was, Eliot couldn’t give them any proof that this was really progressing.

“Well, not yet”. He did his best to reassure her. “But, we’ll get there”.

She scanned his face and then she asked: “Do you really believe that?”

Her words cut deeply. When he found the book, the four of them had been elated. Finally, they had a good lead. According to Orpheus’ book, entering to the underworld wasn't as difficult as one would believe. After Eurydice died, Orpheus had played the same song during days until Hades sent for him.  

They decided that Eliot must be the one to follow Orpheus’ steps. After all, Hades gave the book to him; the message was clear. And so the quest began. However, days passed without a result and doubt crept in their hearts. In some way, this made Eliot recall the mosaic; an endless endeavor.  And just like the mosaic, Eliot will work until it's solved.

“I’ll sing as long as is necessary”. He declared honestly. And then, to hide his moment of vulnerability, he added: “What other option do we have?”

“None”, Alice conceded. Even after Eliot had started singing, they didn’t stop looking for other plans. It didn’t hurt to be prepared, but there was nothing to be found. They were almost on the entrance of the castle, when Alice commented: “I feel this isn’t fair. We’re just waiting while you do this day in and day out”.

“You did help”.

“It’s not the same”.

“Maybe not”, Eliot realized that (again) the conversation was approaching to feelings territory. He decided to make a joke to lighten the mood. “Well, you have a Library to run”. The words had a little more bit than was necessary (some habits were hard to break). If Alice noticed, she didn’t mention.

“And you have a kingdom”, she refuted.

“Well, I’m lucky that Margo rules by my side”. He declared. “Do you think I should worry? Maybe she’s planning to overthrone me”.

“I don’t think it will work”. Alice claimed confidently. “People actually like you this time”.

“Oh, really? I think is the cane”, Eliot tapped the aforementioned object to prove his point. “Or maybe it’s my singing. The rumor has spread. Can you believe they started to call me ‘The Sorrowful’?”

The last comment seemed to break the light atmosphere. Fortunately, they reached the Great Hall. They were received by Margo and a different conversation took place.

Nevertheless, when Eliot went to bed that night, he pondered about his own words.  

_I’ll sing as long as is necessary._

He wonders if (as the mosaic) Hades is also waiting for his death to offer the prize. Perhaps, the fillorian had found the correct words to describe him after all.

Eliot, The Sorrowful, the one who sang for his lost love until he drew his last breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the songs featured in this chapter are:  
> "Wish That You Were Here" by Florence and the Machine.  
> "Supersymmetry" by Arcade Fire.


	2. Oh, Orpheus! Just sing for me all night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second part. This time we have Q's perspective. I hope you enjoy the end of this story.

Quentin was tired of everything. It had been months since he recovered his memories and weeks since he discovered that Eliot was still alive. They had been trying to keep the monster pleased. Or to be more precise, Quentin had tried while everyone told him to give up and just trap the monster.

They didn’t understand that what they were asking was something he couldn’t do. They didn’t understand and they didn’t seem interested in comprehending the situation. They didn’t ask and Quentin couldn’t bring himself to share the whole story with them. Not when he felt so distraught. Not when he thought, he was only going to find pity or, even worse, blankness.

How did Quentin explain that he can’t see the man he loves die twice before his eyes? How did he describe fifty years of partnership? Quentin didn’t know. So, instead of talking, he kept his emotions bottled up and he tried to survive like that.

After his first confrontation with the monster, Quentin thought that maybe Julia will try to reach out. He had said pretty fucked up things in an attempt to make the monster take better care of Eliot’s body.

_You kill him and we are done. I swear to God, I am serious. I will abandon you, and I will die trying to burn you to the ground. Break my bones and strangle me. Too tired to care anymore. You hurt him, you take one more pill, and you can build your body on your own._

He felt at the end of his rope. But what had startled him was that he meant the words. And that was not good. He couldn’t let the monster affect him this way, he couldn’t lose hope.

But it was getting difficult with nobody to talk to. This has never been Julia’s specialty, Quentin knew perfectly that. She did her best, but she always had that look in her face when she listened to this sort of thing. That expression that showed pity and helplessness mixed in equal measure.

And Quentin didn’t want to deal with that. Couldn’t. In a way, he was relieved when she didn’t address the incident. Instead of talking about his feelings, he threw body and mind on finding a solution.

But days passed, nothing changed and Quentin was getting more and more numb.

And then Alice came back. Even after she had promised she would leave him alone. For a crazy moment, Quentin thought that maybe she would understand. Surely, Alice would take one look at him, see his determination, and remember that he was like this when he wanted to bring her back.

He was mistaken. Because Alice was too concentrated on redeeming herself; on looking a way to fix them. She missed the signals. Quentin knew she meant well, and decided to give her another opportunity.

_I want you in my life, as a friend._

In the end, nothing mattered. Julia nor Alice could help him, they couldn’t reach him. No, it wasn’t their fault, it was Quentin’s. Yes, he was getting too far away. Always him and his broken brain that couldn’t keep fighting.

Perhaps, not even Eliot could have gotten Q out of his head this time.

And wasn’t that an awful thought?

 

* * *

 

Everything happens so fast. One moment Quentin is in the mirror world facing Everett and then he’s inside a lift. The doors open to reveal Penny and right there Quentin understands his situation: he’s dead.

The conversation that follow passes on a blur. Even knowing he’s dead, Q has a hard time accepting his new status. There’s a thought that keeps repeating on his mind.

“Did I do something brave to save my friends or did I finally find a way to kill myself?”

After the words are said, Quentin feels a huge wave of sorrow wash over him. There are other emotions there too; emotions that Quentin doesn’t want to think about right now: shame, remorse.

Penny doesn’t give him an answer. How could he? When even Quentin can’t find one. Quentin who was there when everything took place. Probably, Penny has read Q’s book by now; he certainly has that advantage. However, Quentin doubts his actions and thoughts make more sense when they are written down. He wonders how does his story seem on paper? Is this the hero’s journey he always wished? Or is the gloomy end he dreaded during his teenage years?

“I can see we are going to need the deluxe package, which… it’s okay”. Penny remarks understanding. “No surprise. Let’s go”.

Penny takes Q to see his friends for the last time. They are gathered around a bonfire. It’s obvious he’s the reason they are here. Quentin wishes that wasn’t true. But there was no other solution.

The mirror needed to be fixed. That’s a fact. The only way to get rid of the monster was the seam. Without mirror, there was no seam, which meant the monster would be free. And Quentin couldn’t let that happen. He didn’t have another choice, and so he fixed it and he died saving them.

However, that wasn’t the whole story. No, this was more complicated.

There was another option: give the bottle to Everett. Why Quentin didn’t do it? Because Everett was going to become an evil god? Well, that wasn’t entirely true. And not that Quentin trusted in the kindness of his soul, fuck no. He barely knew the man, but Alice and Kady had told him what Everett had done with the hedges. However there was the possibility that Everett couldn’t control the monster’s power. And in the worst of cases, they could always fuck off to Fillory and regroup there.

Why fix the mirror? Why not choose the other option? Isn’t that what they always did? Mess up and then figure their way out. Most of the time it only landed them on a worse situation, but they keep fighting. That was what they did best: bargaining and survive.

And if that’s their speciality why are they here? Singing for his lost friend, saying goodbye. Does nobody want him alive? Kady was ready to bring back Penny. Quentin did the same for Alice and Eliot.

_Oh, God, Eliot. Where is he?_

After knowing that Eliot was alive, Quentin had focused on saving him. It didn’t matter if that meant to built a body and let a powerful monster out. As long as that gave him Eliot back, Quentin was going to do it. Where had gone Quentin’s fire and determination during that last battle?

It could be that the fixing was the only option, but why the hell did Quentin stop running? Had Everett’s taunt broken his last ounce of hope?

“Your friend Eliot is safe” he had said and Quentin hated him for using that as a leverage. He hated Everett because the words sounded like a lie in his mouth. Quentin still recalls the scene: the blood staining Eliot’s clothes and the desperation in Margo’s voice. And then Everett added: “You always were smarter than the books gave you credit for”.

Was that then, the last drop? The remainder that what he had done wasn’t enough. That Quentin wasn’t enough and never will be.

Another voice joins the song. Quentin looks up and sees Eliot and Margo walking to the bonfire.

_Eliot is alive. Eliot is alive._

Quentin almost breaks right there. The situation with the monster was unbearable. Why couldn’t he keep holding for a bit more? Honestly, he has no clue. Maybe it were those words, maybe it weren’t. However, there was one fact he can’t ignore anymore. He stopped running. He didn’t cast the spell to die, but when death was looming over him, he stopped fighting back.

“I think you know your answer now”, Penny mutters unaware of Quentin’s inner turmoil. Penny didn’t have a way to know it. Quentin supposes the books don’t include an underworld epilogue. “The story for them, it’s just starting but it won’t be the same story because of you. You didn’t just save their lives, you changed their lives as much as they changed yours”. Penny’s words make Quentin uneasy. He always wanted to hear that, to know his live had meant something. But did he need to die to hear it? It’s like Penny was fulfilling some of Quentin’s youth suicide ideation with those words. And it makes Quentin’s stomach churn. “You didn’t want to leave all that, did you?”

Quentin feels the tears prickle in his eyes. He hates that Penny uses the past tense. _Did you?_ Because the true is Quentin _doesn’t_ want to. He stays still. Q looks at every single person that’s there: Kady, the other Penny, Julia, Dean Fog, Margo, Alice and Eliot. He loves them so much.

Quentin observes how Eliot takes out a peach and throws it into the fire.

“Time to say goodbye”, Penny announces.

“All right”, Quentin whispers, but he doesn’t move.  “Just one last look”.

Quentin stares at the fire. His gaze keeps glued to the peach. _It was sort of beautiful._ The flames consume it, soon there will only be ashes left. _It really was_. He swallows back the tears; they leave a bittersweet taste in his mouth. At least, he has the memories of that life.

Penny touches his arm; he’s ready to escort him back to the underworld. Quentin looks back, but it’s not enough.

_“I’ll be gone in a day or two”._

Eliot’s voice is the last thing Quentin hears.

 

* * *

 

Quentin was drawing a new pattern for the mosaic, while Eliot was cooking dinner. They had spent a great part of the evening cleaning the cabin, and now Quentin was trying to give the mosaic a little more of attention. However, the task was proven to be difficult in the dim light of their living room. It seemed Eliot was not the only one who needed a pair of glasses.

“Q, leave that and come to help me”, Eliot called him from the kitchen. He probably had caught Quentin’s distress and was offering a break.  Quentin didn’t need to be told twice. He got up and went on Eliot’s aid.

Vaguely, he remembered how disinclined he had been (at the beginning of their life) to leave the work of the mosaic behind. He had been so concentrated on finish it, that he couldn’t let pass a single day without working on it. However, as the years passed and as their family grew, the mosaic had stopped being his priority.  

Once Quentin entered in the room, Eliot gave him a bowl and said: “Mix this”. Eliot waited a whole minute before speaking again: “Were your eyes bothering you?” Of course, he wasn’t going to left the issue pass. Not when something was troubling Q.

“Yeah,” Quentin answered casually. “Don’t worry; we have a free day tomorrow. So, I’ll be able to rest a bit”.

“Oh, Q, it baffles me that you think it’s a free day when we are babysitting Teddy’s kids”. Eliot teased.  And he was not wrong. Their grandchildren could be a bit too much. Quentin was glad they only had to deal with one child on daily basis.

“It’s your fault for spoiling them”.

“True”, Eliot accepted. He could never say no to their little faces. “But it’s because they have your puppy eyes”.

“Flattery won’t help you”, Quentin singsonged. However, when Eliot got close to take the bowl, Quentin gave him a peck on the lips making the taller man smile. “Anyway, we must hide the tiles”.

“I’ll do it in the morning”.

Quentin still recalled what happened the last time they left the kids play close to the mosaic. And judging by Eliot’s quick response he did too. Perhaps the mosaic wasn’t their priority anymore, but they wanted to finish it, if only to help their friends. And to see how the beauty of all life looked like. However, Quentin felt he already knew the answer to that.

 

* * *

 

“Are they going to be okay?”, Quentin asks when they return to the office.

“Oh, yeah”, Penny answers confidently. “Once they reach here, just fine”.

“No”, Quentin shakes his head. “Up there”.

“Oh... up there”. There’s some amusement in Penny’s voice. Quentin doesn’t understand why it bothers him. Perhaps it’s Penny’s attitude, like he is above from earthly affairs.

Penny shares a few information of the future of their friends. Quentin tries to find some sort of comfort, but he’s just thinking how he could help if he were there with them. By the time Penny accompanies to what seems to be the last stop, Quentin has had enough of codling.

“What happens next?”

“Learn to love the mysteries, man”. Penny answers, he’s been strangely evasive.

“Can I ask you something?” Quentin insists.

“Yes, I’m nicer”, Penny jokes and, before Q can say anything else, he continues. “All that stuff that we think protects us or motivates us or scare us up there, here it just all falls away. You’re just you. You’ll see.”

Penny offers Quentin a golden card. However, Quentin doesn’t take it.

“Maybe I don’t want to see it”, Quentin replies quickly. And before he loses the nerve, he adds: “Besides, what’s wrong with you?”

“With me?” Penny questions him, taken aback by the change of topic.

“Yes, Penny. Everything you have been saying since I got here”. Quentin says with more hostility than he thought he was capable. He can’t help it; Penny’s attitude put him on edge. “You made it sound as if death was the only place I would find peace”.

 _And that’s not true._ Quentin wants to yell. _Not true, because I lived fifty years and I was happy._

“Quentin, take the fucking card and cross the archway”, Penny orders him.

“No”. He says crossing his arms and tilting his chin up. “You can’t make do it”. Quentin isn’t sure if the fact that he’s talking with Penny makes this easier, but he feels pretty damn confident.

“You’re a pain in the ass, Coldwater”, the other isn’t amused by his stubbornness. Penny pinches the bridge of his nose and starts swearing under his breath. However, Quentin has the feeling Penny isn’t addressing him anymore. “I told him this wasn’t going to work, but he insisted. I bet he just wanted to rile you up, fucking gods. Of course, they didn’t care; he’s not the one dealing with you”.

“What the hell are you talking?” Quentin interrupts.

“I can’t say it”. Penny looks a bit torn, but he keeps quiet about the matter. He extends his hand again. “Just take it”.

Quentin eyes the plastic card incredulously. Could there be an opportunity to get out of the underworld? Penny had cursed the gods, maybe, they were involved in this. After all, Quentin helped in the permanent banishment of the monster and her sister. On the other side, he also helped the monster to murder some gods. This could be a trap to make him cross and leave behind any opportunity to return. Except, Penny wouldn’t do that, right? His outburst was very genuine. Quentin was used to be the one who provoked them, so he knew it was real.

This must be his opportunity. He needs to take a leap of faith. Quentin doesn’t think twice and he grabs the offered object in his hand. _Metrocard Underworld._ He takes a step and hugs Penny.

“I trust you”, Quentin says and he glimpses at the archway.

“This is as far as I go, brother”.

He walks through the archway without looking back.

 

* * *

 

Quentin broke an ashtray when he was five years old. It wasn’t entirely his fault. He was just trying to move the object with his mind. Who could had guessed the ashtray was going to obey him? Quentin forgot this specific tidbit. What he did remember was her mother's face. She was angry, of course, but what struck Quentin the most was the plain disappointment in her gaze.

In Quentin’s defense, breaking things didn’t become an habit of his. But that didn’t seem to matter to his mother. Because from time to time, she would say: “Don’t break anything”. Just to remind her son of his clumsiness. And in no time, those words acquired another meaning.  What Quentin heard when she spoke was: “You’re hopeless”.

When Quentin was nine, he and Julia broke his mother’s favorite flower vase. They tried to repair it. They mixed glue with colorant and joined the pieces. They had gotten the idea from their last visit to the museum. Their class went to a japanese exhibition, in which were displayed pottery pieces repaired with gold. The technique was called Kintsukuroi. The guide claimed that these objects were considered beautiful for having been broken and repaired.

Quentin thought that perhaps this could cheer his mom up. It didn’t work out. She wasn’t pleased by their little project. Noticing the bad reaction of Mrs. Coldwater, Julia decided to take the blame for the breaking. After all, she was the one who had accidentally pushed Quentin. Julia’s words didn’t make a difference, Mrs. Coldwater had already assigned the fault on her son.

Two years later, his parents got divorced. He wondered if he was the reason his mother left. The first time their parents reunited again was when Quentin was diagnosed with depression. He was thirteen and he finally understood why his mother looked so displeased with him. She hated broken things.

Quentin wasn’t broken.

But, she made him feel that way.

Sadly, it took him a long time to discover the truth.  It was on Brakebills where Quentin finally come up with terms respect that issue. There, he met other misfits: Penny, Alice, Margo and Eliot.  They showed Quentin that the world could have hurt you, but that in the end, you could always rebuild yourself. A stronger and more powerful version of yourself.

They were like those japanese potteries: beautiful.

Not in spite of the cracks or because of them. Simply, with them.

They were gorgeous with their golden and silver lines. Alongside them, Quentin was getting comfortable with his owns lines. 

Lamentably, that didn’t mean anything to his mother. And when Quentin met her after all these years, she made her point loud and clear. She looked at him and she saw the kid who broke things. She scolded Quentin for missing  his father’s funeral and then left him to pack his father’s planes. But before leaving, she warned him: “Don’t break anything”.

Quentin broke an ashtray when he was five and his mother never let him forget that.

 

* * *

 

He isn’t sure what he expects, but Q is surprised when, after crossing the archway, he finds himself in some kind of open field. The place is a bit dark, which makes sense since down here there is no sun. Because of this, Quentin can’t observe the whole place. He can only see the things that are a few yards from where he’s standing.

The grass is tall enough to reach his knees. Quentin walks for a bit until something captures his attention: a river. The water that runs is cristaline. Quentin crounches down to get a better look at it. He remembers reading somewhere that there were five rivers in the underworld.

“I wouldn’t touch that, if I were you”.  The voice comes from his right. When Q turns, he discovers a well known figure standing beside him.

“Jules?” He asks, completely perplexed. How could she be here? Before Quentin’s mind has time to come up with some theory, Julia shakes her head.

“I’m not her”, she says. And Quentin notices the difference in her posture. “My name is Hecate”.

“Why do you look like her?”

“Hades suggested it will be more reassuring if mortals were given a farewell by a familiar face”.

“I don’t follow”.

“I will explain. But first, tell me: do you like this form?” Hecate opens her arm as she makes the question. Quentin stays silent, he’s so tired of gods messing with him. Hecate pressures him. “Maybe, you would prefer a lover’s face”.  Hecate changes to mirror Alice’s appearance. The cold gaze unsettles Quentin. It reminds him of her time as a niffin. The goddess realizes Quentin’s tense posture and proposes. “Perhaps if I were _the lover_ ”.

“Stop it”, Quentin yells, but it’s too late: the smoke has already covered her figure. Quentin closes his eyes. The last thing he wants is to see Eliot’s face and know that it’s just an illusion.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Coldwater”, she says. When Quentin opens his eyes, he is looking at Margo’s face. For a moment he forgets this is not Margo. She speaks again: “I got her right, didn’t I? You pick up some mannerism after meeting the same person over and over.” Hecate looks pleased with herself, the expression helps to maintain a resemblance to Margo. “Oh, come on. Don’t look at me like that. I wasn’t going to use _his_ face”.  Not-Margo scrunches her nose. “I’m not too fond of male disguises”.

“Stop this”, Quentin shouts angrily. “Stop wearing my friend’s faces”.

Picking up a fight with a goddess isn’t a smart move. But Quentin is not going to let this continue. He’s too tired of being the plaything of others.

“I was aiming for comfort. I guess I didn’t achieve it”. She changes her features again. This time she has straight black hair and pale skin. Quentin assumes she has taken her goddess aspect. Her tone changes, and Quentin understands this is a serious matter. “Welcome to the crossroad”.

“The crossroad?”

“This is the part where I decide the place in which you will spend your after life”. Hecate explains. “Usually, I just tell you where to go, but you’re a special case”. She makes a pause to let Quentin absorb the information. “You have a choice. Well, at least, more of a choice than the others I have met”.

“Do I have to make my decision right now?”

“No. You have to wait for a second offer”. Hecate comments. “This is mine: the Asphodel Meadows”.

“The Asphodel Meadows”, Quentin repeats. _Great_. Should he feel offended or relieved? He ended up in the place for ordinary souls: nor evil, nor good, just average.

Hecate must read his mind, because she asks. “Do you have any complaints?” She doesn’t wait for Quentin’s response and she continues. “You brought magic back, but you were the responsabile for its absence in the first place. The good and the bad balances”.

Quentin has to admit her explanation has some logic. “And now what?”

“You wait here”. Hecate moves her hand and a bag appears at Quentin’s feet. “That should be enough to keep you entertained”.

“Are you leaving?”

“Yes, I have other issues that need my attention”.

Quentin bends down to take the bag. Inside there is an object he recognizes: the first edition that Plover signed it. He searches the contents and realizes these are things his friends throw to the fire. Everything is inside there except for one thing.

“There’s something missing”, he says.

“We are a bit strict concerning food”. Hecate clarifies as she holds the peach Quentin was looking for. “I can’t give you this. But I have something else for you”. She extends her hand and when she deposits the fruit in Quentin’s palm, it has become a pomegranate. “One bite, and I will know you accept my offer. Do you understand?”

“I do”, Quentin answers.

“Perfect. I’ll see you: sooner or later”, Hecate says and before vanishing, she adds, pointing at the river. “Don’t forget my advice”.

Quentin process his meeting with the goddess as he stares at the pomegranate. One bite is all it will take. He tucks the fruit in the bag and takes out the book. But he doesn’t open it. Once again, the river has captured his attention.

It’s the River Lethe. The river of forgetfulness and oblivion. If he drinks from it, all of his memories will be erased. Q isn’t sure how he knows this, just that he knows it. Probably, the information is courtesy of Hecate. She’s still warning him.

It’s not necessary. Right now, his memory is his most precious possession. He would never given up that willingly. Sure, some of his memories aren’t great, other are plainly awful. Nevertheless, each one of them had shaped him into the man he’s now. And there are others reminiscences that are truly beautiful.  

 

* * *

 

Quentin didn’t want to get out of bed. Today was one of those days his brain refused to cooperate with him. He felt extra-guilty because today was Teddy’s sixth birthday. Of all the days his brain could choose it had to be this one. For a moment, Quentin entertained the idea of spending the whole day in bed; however, his wishful thinking was interrupted by a loud noise. Teddy had walked in the bedroom and jumped right into the bed.

“Dad, Papa, wake up”, Teddy said cheerfully, almost bouncing on the bed.

It took Eliot a moment to stir, when he did, he surged forward and captured Teddy in a bear hug. “Happy birthday”, he said between kisses and Quentin’s heart swelled at the scene. He ruffled Teddy’s hair and offered his own congratulations.

“How does sleep in sounds as a present?” Eliot commented as the three of them settled on the bed.

“Dad promised to make me breakfast”. Teddy declared excitedly and Quentin felt bad, because he knew that right now he couldn’t keep his promise.

“He did”, Eliot agreed. However, as soon as his gaze landed on Quentin, he realized his mistake. “But, you know what, young man, he made breakfast yesterday, now it’s Papa’s turn to surprise you”.

“Can we still eat scrambled eggs?” Teddy asked tilting his head.

“Of course we can. Now change your clothes and wait me in the kitchen”. Teddy did as he was told and left them alone in the room. Once Teddy was gone, Eliot directed his attention to Quentin. He tucked one strand behind Quentin’s ear and asked softly. “How are you, darling?”

Quentin had always thought that was one of the worst questions to make on these days. But somehow, Eliot made the words sound better. Because, to be honest, it wasn’t the words what bothered Quentin, but the way in which people pronounced them: a bit uncomfortable, tripping over the syllables, hopping for a positive answer and to not have to deal with something problematic. But, Eliot, God, El made the sentence feel like a soothing balm. When Eliot spoke his face was open and sincere. There was no reproach on his eyes. Quentin could only see an earnest disposition to help.

“It’s one of those days”, Quentin answered sincerely. And Eliot’s response is instinctive.

“What do you need?”

“Scrambled eggs?” he said jokingly, and then he added. “Just give me a little to fully wake up”.

“As you wish”, Eliot kissed Quentin’s forehead and got out the bed. “I’ll make sure Teddy doesn’t set anything on fire. See you”.

Quentin stayed a bit more in bed. From his spot, he could feel how their little home came alive. Eliot left the door open, as a result of this, Quentin could hear Teddy’s voice. Their kid was telling Eliot some story that was making both of them laugh. He also heard the clink of cutlery and soon the smell of food reached the room.

It was a real shame, he was feeling like this. _Depression is terrible._ Quentin thought. But as he made his way to the kitchen and was received by Teddy’s cheerful tone and Eliot’s gentle smile, Quentin remembered himself that it was something you could live with.

 

* * *

 

Quentin finds a spot to settle down near the River Lethe. There the grass doesn’t bother him. He empties the contents of the bag and takes a better look at them. On the ground lie the next objects: the mug he repaired, his admission letter to Brakebills, his crown and the Fillory book. Until now, he realizes that the smiley egg that 23 throwed is also missing.  

He contemplates the items and what they represent: Brakebills and Fillory. The two places in which he found a home. First among the physical kids. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a good start. Quentin was sad for not had being able to share this with Jules, but, at the same time, he was glad to had discovered who he was without her. He built his second home on Fillory. Not the Fillory that Martin destroyed almost beyond repair. (Q was never on that Fillory long enough). But the Fillory that existed before all the trouble. In where he lived and grew old.

Quentin gives the objects one last look and then, one by one, he gets them back in the bag. Before closing it, he gets a glimpse of the pomegranate. They are giving him a choice. _You have to wait for a second offer._ Quentin doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he’s really looking for that other option.

At the last minute, he takes out the book. Since he’s going to wait, he better make good use of that time. Quentin opens the book on the first chapter and starts reading. Soon he’s engrossed in the reading. He is by the middle of the story when his concentration is interrupted. Quentin hears a melody and then a voice.

 _“It’s been a while since I’ve been to see you. I don’t know where, but you’re not with me”_. Quentin recognizes that voice. He doesn’t think he could ever forget it. _“Heard a voice, like an echo. But it came from me. Supersymmetry”._

This can’t be happening. Unless this is that second offer Hecate mentioned. Quentin gets up and, still holding the book, rushes forward looking for the source. It doesn’t take long to find it; to find him. Eliot is standing just a few steps from him. As soon as their gazes met the music stops.

“Eliot”, Quentin whispers the name reverently. He can’t believe the sight in front of him. “Am I hallucinating?” The fond smile he receives is all the confirmation he needs to know this is the real Eliot and not the monster or some other twisted trap.

Eliot opens his mouth to answer. Q can hear the retort before Eliot even says it: _If you were, how asking me would help?_ But no sound comes out. Quentin tries to reduce the distance between them, but Eliot takes a step back and puts his hands up, signaling him to stop.

“What’s happening, El?”

He doesn’t respond. Quentin can see in his rigid posture how tense he is. Eliot clenches and unclenches his hands. It obvious he’s restraining himself, but why? Quentin doesn’t understand. Why does he keep the distance?   

 _“Oh, how could it be, Eurydice"._ Eliot start to sing, when he says the name he points at Quentin and then at himself. “ _I was standing beside you by a frozen sea. Will you ever get free?”_

Eurydice. The name sparks recognition on Quentin’s mind. The greek myth. This can only mean one thing. This has to be the second option.

“If I’m Eurydice”, Quentin’s voice is hesitant. “Does that mean you’re Orpheus?”

He nods as a response, Quentin can see amusement in his gaze. Once more, Quentin goes for the hug and again Eliot steps back.

“Is something wrong?” he asks concernedly. The distance is making Quentin anxious. Eliot has always been a very tactile person. Quentin doesn’t understands why he’s been so reserved with his affection now. When both need the reassurance that this is real. When Quentin has been craving the contact for so long.

Eliot goes through his pockets looking for something. It is only then that Quentin realizes Eliot is wearing fillorian clothing, more specifically royal garments. However, they are different from the ones that Quentin remembers. He isn’t using the bright colors he favored. The outfit that Eliot is wearing is pitch black: a mourning attire.

He pulls two pieces of parchment out. Eliot holds both with his left hand and with his right he goes over the motions of a spell. Quentin is marveled by the action; it’s been so long since he has seen Eliot make magic. When Eliot finishes, he gives one of the pieces to Quentin. As Eliot begins to scribble on his own, the words appear in the sheet Quentin is holding.

 **We are going to attempt an Orpheus &Eurydice's escape from the underworld. **Quentin smiles at the words. He can almost hear the upbeat tone in Eliot’s voice. The light mood last little, because Quentin remembers the end of that story. His expression must change, and soon other words follow. **Minus the end, obviously.**

“Obviously”, Quentin echoes the feeling. A moment later, the heaviness of the situation becomes more palpable. “Wait a minute. Did you. God, El, did you make a deal with Hades?”

Eliot nods and (at least) has the decency to look a bit sheepish. And maybe, Quentin shouldn’t judge him so harsh. After all, Q kinda make one with Hecate. However, the circumstances were totally different.  

**About that, there are a few rules we must follow.**

“The whole not look back thing. I get it” Quentin states, to his surprise, Eliot shakes his head.

 **It’s not so easy**. He writes. Of course, it wouldn’t be. After a moment, new words appear. **I can’t talk and we can’t touch until**

“We get out”, Quentin finishes for him. There are odds rules, but they do explain Eliot’s behavior: his unwillingness to close the distance between them and his lack of words. However, there’s something doesn’t add up. “How come you can sing?”

Eliot smiles at the question.

**You could say Hades likes my singing.**

“Really, El?” Quentin rolls his eyes at the comment. For his part, Eliot shrugs, as this was a trivial matter. There’s so much Quentin wants to say, but, for now, they have to concentrate in getting out. And so, Quentin interrogates about their situation. “And now, what? How do we leave this place?”

The question eases some tension from Eliot’s posture. Quentin wonders how much time has passed up there. Eliot looks more put together than he did during the bonfire. And while that happened just a moment before for Quentin, he believes the time doesn’t move in the same way.  Had Alice told them he stopped running? Had they draw the logical conclusion? Quentin wants to explain, but he doesn’t even know where he must begin.

**We need to rip off the card.**

“Card?” Quentin asks unsure. “What card?” He remembers Penny’s insistence of taking the metrocard. It must be that. Quentin takes out the golden object and says: “You mean this?”

**Not yours, but the one Hades gave me. Though is good to know he wasn’t lying.**

Eliot takes out a golden card almost identical to the one Quentin is holding. The only difference is that Eliot’s has the words ‘visitor’ written on it.

“So, we just rip it off, and that’s it?”

 **That’s what Hades said.** Eliot seems pretty confident about this. And, Quentin hates to rain on him, but his interactions with gods hadn’t went exactly well. He feels the obligation to share his thoughts.

“That’s sounds too easy”.

**You do remember that for bullshit like this Orpheus came back alone, right?**

Briefly, Quentin spares one thought to the pomegranate that’s inside his bag. Hecate’s offer doesn’t stand a chance against this.

“Sorry, it’s just…” Quentin doesn’t finish the sentence, he’s not sure if he can convey how scared he is that this could fail.

Eliot senses the change in his mood and tries to comfort him. He  takes a step forward and lifts his hand to Quentin’s face. Quentin leans seeking the warmth, but it never comes. Eliot’s hand has stopped mid air; his open palm is hovering a few inches from Quentin’s skin.

For brief second, both of them consider closing the gap. It would be so easy to touch now, but it will also ruin them. Reluctantly, Eliot draws back. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. After that he writes the next words:

 **It’s going to work, believe me.** Eliot’s sincerity is palpable in each stroke. He takes one extreme of the card and offers the other to Quentin.

“At the count of three”, Quentin whispers as he closes his finger around the plastic. “One, two, three”.

The card rips easily as it were paper instead of plastic.

 

* * *

 

The ride back home was tense. As soon as Quentin had been cleared from the hospital, his father had packed his things and taken him to the car. Neither of them spoke. Quentin didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t known when he woke up to his parents’ stricken and concerned faces. He hadn’t know when he sat in front of his new therapist. And, certainly, he didn’t know what to do with himself now.

When he took the pills he hadn’t been thinking. He just wanted to stop feeling. There was this sensation of emptiness, of unworthiness, that he wished it could go away. It had started innocuously: not wanting to get out of bed, loss of appetite. And suddenly, everything was too much and he was swallowing the pills.

They arrived at the house at noon. His father led Quentin to his room and helped unpack. It was obvious he didn’t want to leave his son alone. The realization made Quentin feel like a burden.

“I’m sorry”, Quentin apologized one more time. He had been doing this since he woke up.

“It’s not your fault, son. Come here”. His father opened his arms and hugged Q. “I am sorry for not seeing you were suffering”. They stayed like that for a moment. Then, he spoke again: “I’m going to cook something. What do you want?”

“Pancakes”.

“Pancakes it is”. His father patted his back, before breaking the hug and leaving the room.

Quentin took a moment to see his room. His last change of clothes were still on the floor and on his bed sat his history homework. It seemed like nothing had changed. Yet, Quentin knew that was not true. His father must have made sure everything was safe. Effectively, the room was clear of sharp objects. Quentin sat on his desk and found something that wasn’t there before.

He took the book and went downstairs to find his dad.

“What is this?” He asked once he entered the kitchen.

“Julia brought it for you”, he answered while he flipped the pancakes. “The food is almost ready”.

Quentin’s fingers traced the title of the book. _Fillory and Further. The World Between Walls_.  He would read it later. It would be a good way to get back in touch with life.

 

* * *

 

When Quentin wakes up, he’s lying down on the grass. During an instant, he worries that the plan didn’t work out, but then he feels the magic in the air. Quentin breathes and he realizes he’s in Fillory.

 _I’m alive. I’m alive._ His mind repeats over and over. Slowly, he gets into a seated position. His gaze sweeps the place searching for Eliot. The other man is looking directly at him. Eliot’s hazel eyes are shining with unshed tears.

For a moment, both men stay frozen in their place. It feels that if they move the illusion could be broken. It’s Quentin who takes the first step.

“We made it, El”.

The effect the words have is immediate. Eliot practically scrambles until he’s beside Quentin and then he (finally) wraps the other man in his arms. Quentin buries his face in Eliot’s neck and he holds so tightly that it must hurt. But neither of them cares. Quentin doesn’t realize he has started to cry until he feels Eliot’s hand rubbing circles in his back. When they part, Quentin sees he’s not the only one that has been crying.

“Told you Hades was reliable”, Eliot says aiming for lightheartedness. Gently, he wipes Quentin’s tears. Q leans into the touch and closes his eyes. Eliot brings their foreheads together and whispers: “Sorry for not being there, Q”.

“You were possessed, not your fault” Quentin manages to mutter between sobs. After he has calmed, he adds. “Thank you for coming for me”.

This elicits a breathy laugh from Eliot.  

“I should be the one thanking you for never given up”. The mention of the monster makes Quentin tense. Eliot perceives the shift immediately and puts some distance between them, but he still keeps their hands linked.

“It was horrible”, Quentin admits. And to the first confession, more follows. “He wasn’t you, but he- It hurt to see your face and know it wasn’t really you”.

Eliot keeps the distance. His face shows remorse and right there Quentin understands. Eliot is aware of what the monster did while using his body.

“What do you need?” Eliot asks, and the insecurity is evident in his voice. He’s afraid of being shut down. Quentin remembers when that question was made for the first time in what it feels ages ago. An olive branch, a hand reaching in the dark.

Quentin doesn’t need to overthink his response. “Just hold me”.

Eliot complies instantly. Once more, Quentin is surrounded by Eliot’s arms. This time, Eliot places Quentin’s head on his shoulder.  

“I’m here now, Q”, he murmurs right into Quentin’s ear.

“I know”.

“And you are here too. Don’t you dare to scare me like that again”.

“I’m alive, El”.

They continue whispering comforting words. Quentin is aware that eventually they are going to talk about his death and resurrection. He knows, but for now, all he wants is a shoulder to lean. He needs solace and that’s what Eliot is offering him. Eliot has always known how to make him feel secure, feel loved. That’s why Quentin makes a second request.

“Please, sing for me”.

“As you wish, darling”. Eliot hums a melody that Quentin recognizes. “ _Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You’ll be alright; no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I’ll be safe and sound”._

 

* * *

 

“El, I need your help”, Quentin said while he dumped his bag on the floor. “The spell you gave me, it didn’t work out”.

“Can you remind me exactly which spell I gave you?” Eliot asked from behind the bar. The man is preparing something.

“The one to block my thoughts”. Quentin replied. As an explanation, he added: “Penny is still complaining”.

“When was the last time you cast it?” Eliot asked again, his attention still on his task.

“Uhm- that day with you”. Quentin’s tone made the words sound more like a question than an affirmation. And it also made Eliot look at him. His feautures show fond exasperation.

“Q, I told you it only lasted 24 hours”.  

Quentin groaned and then he slumped on the couch. He buried his face on the cushions. God, only him would forget a key information like that. After a moment, Eliot patted his head and took a seat beside him. When Quentin sat, Eliot handed him a blue cocktail.

“Drink this”, Eliot said. “It’ll make you feel better”.

Quentin followed Eliot’s advice. The sweet flavor did help, but it didn’t erase Quentin’s embarrassment.

“My wards are so weak”, he complained.

“They are”.

“Woah, thanks for the compliment”. Quentin lifted his glass in Eliot’s direction.

“Why do you think it’s like that?” His friend asked, suddenly he sounded more serious.

“Because I suck at magic”, Quentin declared as he emptied the drink. Eliot sighed and took the glass from Q’s hands, probably to refill it.

“I’m going to tell you something deep, okay?” Q perked up at the words. The last time Eliot had used a similar phrasing he had confessed something personal. Quentin had appreciated how he had trusted him. “It’s more easy for some people to build walls”. Eliot was looking directly at his eyes. “You’re bad at this, because it’s not like you to hide”.  

During an instant, the sentence hung in the air. Quentin was the first to break the eye contact.

“I really doubt that”. Q had never considered himself to be an open person. That always had been Jules. He was the one who looked for ways to escape, who buried his face in a book and closed off to the world. What Eliot said didn’t make sense.

Eliot shook his head. “You’re looking at this from the wrong angle”.

“I’m not”, he refuted. “I hide”, he confessed and then as an afterthought, he murmured: “Like everyone does”. Quentin looked down at his hands. He wanted help with a spell, not to have a heart to heart.  

“You’re honest about the things that matter to you, Q”, Eliot argumented. It seemed that was all he had to said, but then he continued in a hushed tone: “I think that, in the moment that counts, you’ll step up”.

After saying that, Eliot cleared his throat and leaned back on the couch. Quentin understood the signals. The talk was over. Or at least the serious one.  

“I guess that means Penny will have to deal with my thoughts for the rest of our college life”.  

Eliot laughed and the tension left his body.

“God, no. Everyone needs privacy. I’ll help”.

“Thanks, El, for everything”.

“It’s a hard mission, but I’m willing to take it”.

 

* * *

 

The second time Quentin wakes up, he’s still lying on the grass. However, this time there’s a warm body pressed next to him: Eliot’s body, his mind supplies. Eliot’s head is resting over Quentin’s chest. In this position, he can hear the soft beating of his heart. The cuddling isn’t something new, or at least, it wasn’t in their other live. Countless were the days in which they woke up entwined.

Quentin doesn’t move, not wanting to disturb Eliot. And maybe, because he’s afraid to lose the contact. He tries to recall the events that lead them to this. But his mind is stuck in one detail.

_If I’m Eurydice, does that mean you’re Orpheus?_

Eliot went to the underworld for him. Quentin doesn’t have a clue what Eliot did in order to enter, but that doesn’t make the feat any less incredible. He’s looking forward to hear the story.

He is like Orpheus. No, he’s even better. Because, unlike Orpheus, Eliot did achieve his purpose. He brought back the love of his life.

 _The love of his life_.

That’s what Eurydice was for Orpheus. But, does Eliot think of Quentin in that way? Maybe he did during the mosaic, but not in this time.

And yet, Eliot looked utterly wracked when he threw that peach into the bonfire. And yet, Eliot made a deal with Hades for an opportunity to save Quentin. And yet, Eliot is holding him like his life depended on it.

“If you’re thinking this hard, then you must be awake”. Eliot comments casually as his fingers dance across Quentin’s arm.

For a moment, Quentin considers moving, but he’s not ready to let go just yet. Not when he has been longing for Eliot during months. He shifts a bit, so he can look into Eliot’s eyes.

“We’re in Fillory”, he affirms.

“Yes”, Eliot isn’t surprised by Quentin’s deduction. The air is a big gave away. He continues. “Three hundred years in the future, to be exact”.

“And you and Margo still managed to get the kingdom back”. Quentin smiles at him.

Eliot frowns. “How did you know?”

“Penny told me”, Quentin explains. “I saw him when I was… down there. He gave me a few updates on the group”.

“So, you know everything about us?”

“No, he only gave a few hints”. Quentin had wanted to know more, but Penny hadn’t said anything else and Q didn’t push. At the moment, Quentin found the action odd, he was dead why not tell him everything.

“I guess he didn’t want you to spill their secrets”, says Eliot who seems to have followed his thoughts.

“I guess”.

They remain in that position, basking in each other’s presence, until Quentin reminds that someone must be looking for Eliot. He doesn’t know for how long he was in the underworld. And so, he asks.

“Should we go back to the castle?”

Eliot tightens his hold on Quentin, is clear he isn’t thrilled by the idea of going back. However, he seems to understand why Quentin brought up the issue.

“We probably should or Margo will send some guards on my search”.

Unwillingly they start to detangle from the other. Quentin misses the warmth, but he coerces himself to let go. Perhaps, on the way to the castle, Eliot can share the whole story of the quest. But, before Quentin can stand up, Eliot takes his right wrist.

“Wait”, he says. There’s a hint of desperation in his voice. “There’s something I want to say, that I _need_ to say”. Whatever that is, must be important, by the way Eliot takes a sharp breath and squares his shoulders. “I love you Q, I’m in love with you. I shouldn’t have turned you down that day. I was afraid: of being happy, of ruining the most important thing in my life, you name it. And I ran away instead of face it”.

Eliot’s declaration leaves Quentin astounded. The remorse is palpable in each word.

“El, I- you hurt me”, Quentin begins; he’s trying to sort of his emotions. He remembers how much it pained to hear Eliot’s rejection that day.

“I know”, Eliot rushes to say. “I was a bastard”. The deprecation in his voice breaks Quentin heart. And you see, Quentin is a simple man, when he loves he gives himself fully. He doesn’t know how to stop loving, and that has crushed him before. But _maybe_ this time it can be different.

“Let me finish. Yes, you hurt me, but I’m not mad at you”. Quentin sees the relief show on Eliot’s features and then the confusion takes place. “I had time to think and I realized that, umh, it wasn’t exactly the most well-timed proposal”. There were so many things happening at that moment: the quest for the magic, the threat to the kingdom.

“And yet, I shouldn’t have said the things I said”.

_You have to know that’s not me and that’s definitely not you, not when we have a choice._

The words still haunted Quentin, even if he didn’t believe in them. Even if he knew that Eliot had stayed with him all those years. He had the opportunity to leave, but he never did. Only death did them part. Nevertheless, they stung; because it meant that all the barriers that they spent years taking down were suddenly up again. And that had scared Quentin the most: the possibility of losing Eliot.

“No, you shouldn’t”.

“For that I apologize. I can’t unsaid them, but, you have to know that was me and I did chose to be by your side”. Eliot’s admission lifts a weight from Quentin chest. He had figured the words weren’t sincere, but to actually hear Eliot said it, it’s a completely different matter. However, the past tense makes Quentin feel uneasy. Did he read the situation incorrectly? Is Eliot only apologizing for being so harsh? “One would believe after fifty years together, we’ll know better”.

“It seems we still have things to learn”, Quentin recognizes.

This appears to be the end of the conversation. Quentin tries to catch Eliot’s gaze, but the other man is avoiding his eyes. _So this is it_. He tries not to feel disappointed, but he can’t elude the feeling. Quentin looks down and sees that their hands have remained entwined the whole time. Quentin brushes his thumb over Eliot’s knuckles. _I really thought_ … It doesn’t matter, he must let go. As soon as Quentin’s hands start to slip from their hold, Eliot squeezes them.

Quentin looks at him and he sees those beautiful hazel eyes filled with determination and affection. He remembers that gaze. It is the same expression he wore when Quentin crowned him High King.

“Fifty years weren’t enough for me, Q.” Eliot says: his voice carries the certainty of his gaze. “I want to spend another life with you. Would that be that crazy?”

The last question echoes Quentin’s words from that day. He’s trying to rewrite their story, taking the things that break them apart to bring them together now. This is Eliot putting his heart on the line for him. He’s laying himself bare, and Quentin knows; Eliot is going to accept whatever he wants to give him.

And you see, Quentin is a simple man, and when he loves he gives himself fully. What he and Eliot had is something he could never forget. And now, he has the opportunity to have it again, one more lifetime together. Words had never been Quentin favored weapon. So it shouldn’t come as a surprise when he closes the gap between their mouths. It’s a simple kiss, barely a brush of lips. Just like their first kiss during their first anniversary at the mosaic.

“I must say your timing isn’t better than mine, but”, Quentin says lightly, smile on his lips. “Yes, El, of course I want that”.

Eliot claims his lips a second time. He cups Quentin’s nape and he angles his head just right to deepen the kiss. Quentin’s hands find his way to Eliot’s shoulders and he twists the fabric there. This kiss is more heated, more desperate. Both of them pour all their emotions into it: love, longing, sorrow. But also: bliss, hope and passion.

“You don’t like my timing?” Eliot asks when they part to regain their breath.

Quentin tries to remember what he was going to say. But he’s too distracted by Eliot’s lips leaving a trail of kisses on his neck. In a far corner of Quentin’s mind (one who’s not dedicated to memorize every detail of Eliot) a voice reminds him there are matters that must be discussed. And when, Quentin looks to find Eliot’s eyes, he knows they have all the time of the world to do it.

Because, yes, Quentin just came back to life. And, yes, Eliot is ruling a kingdom again. But no one is trying to kill them (at least not yet) and the fate of magic doesn’t lie on their shoulders anymore.

“Don’t worry”, Eliot says between kisses. “We’ll work on it”.

“Yes”, Quentin affirms, eyes filled with joy. “We have a lifetime ahead of us”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs in this chaper:  
> "Awful Sound (Oh Eurydice)" by Arcade Fire.  
> "Safe and Sound" by Taylor Swift.


End file.
